Silver Circlets
by Permilea
Summary: While Sam and Frodo sleep in the keeping of the King, Gimli completes a small task. Inspired by shirebound's In the Keeping of the King.


**Silver Circlets**  
Author: Permilea  
Rating: K  
Characters: Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas, Frodo, Samwise  
Category: General  
Status: Complete because that is all there is  
Disclaimer: Middle-earth and its denizens belong to the Tolkien Estate.  
Summary: While Sam and Frodo sleep in the keeping of the King, Gimli completes a small task.

_A/N: This small scene was inspired by one phrase in shirebound's lovely tale, "In the Keeping of the King," as well as by my acquisition of Applause's splendid Gimli figure. I usually write hobbits, so this story is a stretch for me._

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Voices erupted beyond the tent walls and the small figure on the campbed jerked. Before Aragorn could move the bandage away, it had scraped the reddened surface of the barely-closed wound. Soft though the cloth was, the patient moaned at its touch. Even unconscious, he tried to tug his hand free. Aragorn swore softly, then lifted his head and glared at the drapery behind which voices rose in heated argument. He handed the roll to the other healer, who took over wrapping the small hand in its new bandages, then he rose and strode outside, the fabric of the tent door whipping behind him.

His angry words misfired when he collided with a man in healer's robes who was blocking the entrance, hands on hips. Before him stood a furious dwarf and an inscrutable elf. Head lowered between broad, leather-clad shoulders, Gimli was primed for mayhem. Legolas rested slender hands on his friend's shoulders, a merry glint in his eye.

The healer turned, ready with cold, cutting words to rend this clumsy underling who had interrupted him. Aragorn smiled wolfishly, watching the man's fury transform into horror at the sight of his future King.

"My lord!" he stammered, bowing hastily. "Forgive me! I did not know. They said you were with Mithrandir—they told me you—" He gulped, wrapped his robes and his dignity around him and straightened. Pointing a shaking finger at the dwarf and elf, he protested, "They would disturb the _periain._ I cannot allow it!"

"Your high words have disturbed them more than my friends would," Aragorn shot back, voice low but fierce. "These tents were placed away from the main encampment for a purpose!"

"He would prevent us from seeing the hobbits," Gimli's voice grated in Aragorn's ears. His hand squeezed the flame-seared hammer hanging from his belt, the other curled slowly as if closing around a certain man's neck. Flustered, the healer broke off his defense. Legolas pressed down more firmly on Gimli's shoulders. Growling, the dwarf subsided, but not without a glare up at the elf that smoldered with promises of retribution. Legolas met it serenely.

The healer started a heated reply, then caught a flash from Aragorn's gray eyes, and retreated. "You understand, my lord. As a healer, you know. Too many visitors endanger—"

"They are here at my request," Aragorn said softly. "I am a better judge what our friends can endure. It is you who are out of place here. Keep your voice down. I will not tell you again."

"Stand aside, man!" Gimli shot the discomfited healer a savage look, and stomped past Aragorn into the tent. Aragorn exchanged a smile with Legolas. Pulling the drapery aside, he beckoned him to enter.

The woman inside looked up, then scrambled to her feet in such a hurry she nearly tipped over the small pot simmering on a stand between the two cots. She had grown accustomed to the presence of the Heir of Isildur as he tended these two over many days. But she had not met his mismatched companions, about whom many songs were already being sung beside the evening campfires in the glades of Ithilien.

"Be easy, lady," the elf said, laughter in his voice. His fingers came into her view, and rested lightly on her own to steady the pot. Fumes of athelas drifted between them. Their heartening scent gave her the courage to look up and meet his eyes, earnest in his regard. "Your care for these our friends compels us to honor _you._"

The dwarf huffed. The woman looked up, caught the unspoken command from the lord Aragorn, and thankfully made her escape.

With a smile, Legolas lifted his hand from its light touch upon Sam's wheat-colored curls and crossed to kneel by Frodo's cot. He touched one hand to his own heart, then rested his long fingers upon Frodo's slowly-moving chest, singing softly to Frodo alone. As he sang, the line between the hobbit's brows eased and he sighed softly. The elf rose.

"In this one thing the master Healer was correct. There are over many people here. I shall await your wrath outside, Gimli," he said, a merry glint in his eye.

"Be sure that you do, master elf! We have things to settle, you and I. Come, man!" he growled at Aragorn, who had stepped away from the doorway to let Legolas pass. "I cannot keep the forge long, with repairs to gear and wagons waiting."

Aragorn raised an eyebrow but left the door to kneel at the opposite side of Frodo's camp bed. The dwarf approached, pulling out a short length of twine.

Gimli stopped beside the bed and looked down at the still figure on it. His hand reached, hesitated, then continued, touching the heat-singed locks before them with a tenderness Aragorn could not but wonder at. It was a marked contrast to the first time the dwarf had entered the grounds of the healers, carrying the bloodied body of the youngest of the hobbits, and bellowing for the ranger with no regard for the wounded men surrounding him.

The ranger was surprised to see tears in the deep-set eyes. Gimli withdrew his hand, cleared his throat, and scowled horribly at Aragorn.

"Well?" It would have been a bark, but he kept his voice low.

Carefully, Aragorn slid his hand beneath the head of the small patient and raised it from the cool white pillow. The fair features, touched with the faint color of returning health, remained quiet in the healing sleep.

"Do your work swiftly, my good Dwarf," Aragorn said softly.

The dwarf twined the small rope around Frodo's brow, grunting acknowledgment when Aragorn shifted his hand to allow a closer fit. He pinched the rope where the end met, then nodded and took it away, busy tying a knot to mark the place.

Aragorn lowered the small head to the pillow. Frodo stirred, the fingers of his undamaged hand twitching and lips parting in a sigh, then he calmed once more into sleep. Aragorn pulled the coverlet higher and rose.

Gimli waited by the bedside of the other patient. He stroked his beard and smiled down at him.

"I would see this one's face when we try to place what I make on his head."

"I doubt Frodo will be any more pleased," Aragorn said thoughtfully. "But I will have all know they are honored, Gimli!"

Ignoring Gimli's impatient snort, the man knelt. They repeated the process with a second length of twine, the dwarf knotting it slightly shorter than was indicated by the measure, to allow for the light bandage that protected a healing gash on Sam's forehead. Once again, he paused after the measure, but this time he smiled through his beard and patted the hobbit's shoulder.

"Good lad," he muttered. His attention was caught by the string he held. He ran the strand through his fingers, muttering. Then he made it into a loop, laid it on his widespread palm, and stared at it.

"So small." He stowed the length carefully, and turned abruptly away to glower at Aragorn.

"Inform that tall healer that I require another visit, to check the fit. I may bring my axe next time, to cut his arrogance down to size." Shoulders stiff, Gimli marched away.

-end-


End file.
